


Sweet Sinning

by TheliRose



Category: Silent Hill (2006), Silent Hill (Video Game Series)
Genre: AFAB reader - Freeform, Bathing/Washing, Blood and Injury, Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Crucifixion, Crying, Cults, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, F/M, Failed Impregnation, Female pronouns, Fuck Or Die, Hair Washing, Hand Jobs, Head Injury, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Monsters, Nudity, Original Character(s), Porn With Plot, Public Nudity, Pyramid Head doesn't have testes in this, Pyramid Head is a monster so he fucks like one, Rape/Non-con Elements, Reincarnation, Religion, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Rough Sex, Size Difference, Spit As Lube, Temperature Play (kind off), Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Vomiting, cause I fucking said so, he ain't gentle, kind off, reader can kinda control the monsters, so turns out he's gentler than I intentioned but thats fine, we stan soft gentle monsters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:07:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24479221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheliRose/pseuds/TheliRose
Summary: Pyramid Head was fucking terrifying, but maybe he wasn't as detached from emotions as you'd thought him to be as he carries you off to a more private area..
Relationships: Pyramid Head/Reader
Comments: 32
Kudos: 443





	1. Is This Against The Rules?

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Offering](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11376771) by [DarthFucamus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarthFucamus/pseuds/DarthFucamus). 



> So, Pyramid Head is going to be in Dead By Daylight and I'm excited, so I wrote this pic to celebrate. Obviously it's based more around the games and the first movie, since I feel like I've done enough fics about DBD for now. I have something else in the works as well, which I hope I can get out soon. Hope you enjoy!!  
> This series is heavily inspired and draws elements from a fic called Offering by DarthFucamus, check it out! This is basically a re-write in my own style and with more backstory!

As the siren fades away and the last bit of wallpaper peels away and disintegrates, the distant sound of metal scraping against concrete is your only warning that it’s time to move.

It’s probably the scariest thing about him; Not the sheer size of him, or his ridiculously big sword. No, it’s the fact that he’s almost completely silent as he moves around the haunting town, the only noise coming from his heavy footfalls and the weapon scraping against the ground.

When everything falls silent, even the typical wind having disappeared, you feel a chill crawl down your spine as you strain your ears, keeping your knife at the ready.

Slowly opening the door to the building you’d been hiding in, you look around, trying to spot any movement in the darkness, not daring to use your flashlight in case he was still around and spotted the light. Maybe that’s why you nearly die off shock right on the spot when a large hand wraps itself around your neck and lifts you up, your legs swinging in the air as you try to get a grip around the offending appendage. Panic crawls across your skin as you desperately try to inhale, spots dancing across your vision as unconsciousness threatens to take over, face slowly going blue.

When he suddenly loosens his grip you cough and sputter as you try to breathe normally, swinging your legs in his direction to try and kick him, but your legs do nothing more than glide off his powerful frame. Your brain supplies that you have a weapon, but as you wrench your hand forward to stab at his arm you notice a distinct lack of a knife. 

Tilting your head down, you see it laying uselessly on the ground, taunting you. You must have missed the moment where you dropped it, but thinking about it you realized it would do next to nothing to the behemoth, and it was ridiculously tiny compared to his own weapon. Feeling utterly helpless, you stop struggling and go limp in his grip, feeling your mind slipping from lack of oxygen, despite his gentler hold on you.

When your vision starts tilting, you realize he’s thrown you over his shoulder instead as you gulp down air, leaving you with the choice of either struggling or accepting your fate, although you knew you wouldn’t stay dead. After all, this was your own personal purgatory and they would never let you escape so easily. 

You’d already experienced death a few times during your time in the hellish town; First when you had come across the knife-wielding nurses in the basement of the hospital. Thinking they were survivors, which you’d seen roaming the streets in search of supplies, you’d stupidly approached them and promptly gotten stabbed to death. Another time it had been a group of the mannequins that had cornered you, beating you to a pulp as your skull caved in from their attacks. Both times had been terrifying, and you’d never forget the feeling of your life slipping away, or the absolute terror you experienced when you inevitably woke back up somewhere in the town.

Deciding against your instincts to keep still, you noticed that he was taking you to the apartment complex that you’d turned into a sort of base, and any creatures you met along the way were taken care of. When you finally reached the building itself, he’d already stomped more than a few lying figures and mannequins to death. You supposed you should be grateful, since the area would be a little safer once you came back, although you certainly weren’t going to show gratitude to the thing that was about to slaughter you.

Apparently, killing you out on the streets wasn’t enough though, as he decided to carry you over to a parking area nearby, kicking down the metal door before crouching down to enter. You nearly hit your head as he ducked under, narrowly avoiding the sharp metal that hung down. 

The sudden slam of concrete against your back caused you to yelp, more in alarm than pain, and the imposing figure standing over you was enough to cause your blood to go cold as, you think, he stared down at you. He seemed oddly passive though, the lack of stabbing or slicing seeming almost good as you were still alive.

Experimentally, you tried to sit up, wincing when a jolt of pain shot out. You had landed on your tailbone, so the fact that it didn’t hurt more was surprising. Rubbing at the sore spot, you just sat there, staring up at the unmoving form in front of you as you tried to think of a way out of the situation. You knew that fighting would be useless, especially since you didn’t have your knife. Running would also most likely not help, since you were still in the Otherworld. There would be too many monsters around and since you didn’t have any other base close by, you would have to hope that Pyramid Head couldn’t get into the apartment building, something you’d rather not bet on if it came to it.

When he finally moved, it was slow, calculated, like he knew you wouldn’t run. With a heavy *clang*, his knife was dropped on the ground and forgotten as he approached you, your heart stuttering with something other than just fear. Even before he grabbed you, you were quivering like a newborn deer. His hands held firm around your waist as he pressed you up against the wall of the building, pinning you down with nowhere to run, the imposing jut of his helmet staring you down.

Your instincts kicked back in and you started struggling, but you quickly died back down as he wrapped a hand around your throat, his grip just a little too tight as you soon gasped for air.

The only hint that he wasn’t about to kill you after all was the sound of his apron being pushed aside and the sudden hard warmth of something pressing against your abdomen. Your stomach flipped as you realized what it was that he wanted, if he could even want things, and you thought that this was your chance to survive.

With a firm hand, you push at his own hand around your throat, trying to get him to let up his grip so you could breathe. At least he seemed somewhat intelligent as he eased up, just the slightest bit. Without hesitation, to your surprise, you move an arm down so you could unbutton your pants, nudging past his member as you do so, the length still pressed snuggly against your stomach. Your heart is racing as you manage to find the button and zipper to your jeans, barely managing to undo them with how sweaty your hands had gotten. As soon as the zipper is pulled down, you start shimmying as much as you can to get them down. He seems to realize what you’re doing as he moves his free hand down to rip off your shoes and pants in a few surprisingly swift movements. 

The crushing reality that you had no lube dawned on you, and you prayed that he wouldn’t just push in immediately. To your relief he didn’t, instead pressing his hand against you, rubbing a finger up and down your entrance as you wrapped a leg around his waist to get some balance.

His movements were uncoordinated and rough, but it didn’t matter. You’d gone so long without intimate physical contact that even the most sloppy movements felt like electricity along your skin, making heat flare up in your gut. You felt his finger slip inside you and you thanked whatever deprived part of you that was making you wet because you knew you’d need it.

You lean your head back against the wall and sigh at the sensation, the roughness of his finger feeling just right as he almost wildly starts pumping his finger into you, soon adding a second, making you howl from the intense mix of pain and pleasure. He doesn’t prep you for long, if he’d even consider it prepping, before he lets his dick take over, sliding over your folds a few times before catching and slowly sliding in, the stretch causing tears to spring to your eyes as you breathe through it. Either he doesn’t notice your discomfort, or he doesn’t care, because as soon as he’s in he starts moving, his hips quickly pistoning into you as you try to brace yourself with your hands against his chest.

When the pain of being stretched and filled so completely subsides, you feel pleasure sparking along your spine, dancing like fireflies in the night. You wrap your other leg around him as you move your hands up to wrap your arms around his shoulders, trying to push yourself down onto his dick as he keeps grunt-fucking you, his voice seeming to echo from within his helmet, mingling with your own lewd sounds.

As you take a moment to look at him, you notice that there’s no hole for him to remove the metal helm. Instead it seems to have been fused together with his skin, an ugly and macabre patchwork of skin and metal visible around the bottom of it. You tried not to think about it as you felt yourself nearing the edge, slick dripping out around his cock as the sound of skin-on-skin sounded throughout the building.

Unlike you, he didn’t moan. Instead, he growled and grunted like an animal, which seemed fitting considering his rough, almost brutal movements. 

The fire in your gut was practically roaring now, your blood rushing through your body as you felt his pace stutter once, twice, before he buried himself inside of you, his dick twitching as he came, your own release following as you screamed

He didn’t bother cleaning up, which wasn’t surprising. Instead, he slipped out of you and let you drop to the ground, tucked his apron back into place and picked up his knife before stalking away, leaving you a panting, mostly naked mess.  You could feel his seed dripping out of your aching hole as you sat up against the wall, shivers wracking your body as the warmth of another body disappeared.

Pulling yourself together, you pulled your pants back on, ignoring the sticky mess it would make for now as you walked back to the apartment complex to try and get some sleep, the distant ringing of the sirens signalling your return to the Fog World as you enter your room, nearly falling into the mattress you had set up on the floor. As sleep started to take you, you thought about what this encounter would mean in the future. Maybe you could use this to your advantage during your next meeting? Any survival strategies would have to wait though, as you quickly fell into unconsciousness, thoughts of him invading your dreams as you slumbered peacefully, despite the horrible world around you.

  
  



	2. Look What The Cat Dragged In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hoping to wash your hair in the cold waters of Toluca Lake, you don't notice the danger you're in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I missed any tags that should be in there, please let me know! Enjoy this chapter of the Silent Hill saga! I'm going on summer break soon and will be working to make some money, so it might take a while until the next update, just a heads up!

The sudden shocking pain shooting through your body made you sit up in alarm, a shout catching in your throat as you doubled over at the motion, your body trembling and shaking like a leaf. As the pain slowly subsided, you started to dry-heave over the side of the mattress as you regained your senses.

The memory of last night, if you could call it that, made you shiver as you felt the ghost of his hands moving over you, his touch possessive in a way you couldn’t describe. Rubbing a hand over your still-aching stomach, you slowly stood up and walked over to the partially boarded-up window in your room, seeing that you were in the Fog world.

Lifting up your shirt, you traced a finger over where you’d been stabbed not long ago, remembering the sudden ringing of the sirens as the Otherworld took over; You’d been in the basement of the hospital looking for supplies when it happened, leaving you to try and find your way back out while avoiding the monsters that now roamed the rusted halls. You hadn’t been careful enough, and you’d gotten a knife through your stomach because of it.

As usual, there were no residual marks from the attack, only the dull ache that would last the rest of the day and hinder you in your search for supplies that you would be forced to do again, seeing as how you hadn’t brought anything back because of your sudden death.

Letting out a heavy sigh, you let your shirt fall back down and drag a hand through your hair, realizing you needed to wash it when your hand came back oily and slick from all the grease that had gathered. A quick detour down to Toluca Lake shouldn’t take too long, and there was a shack near the water that you could hide in in case the sirens started. Having made a decent plan, you gathered up your spare backpack and rucksack before leaving the relative safety of your base, knife in hand as you made your way towards the closest department store.

During your time in the strange world of Silent Hill, you’d noticed that stores and buildings would restock supplies between transformations, although you weren’t sure why or how it happened. You didn’t care much either since it made your life easier, allowing you to loot the same stores a few times each week. They were never overflowing with items though, usually only carrying a few cans of food or bottles of water and if you were lucky, some ammo for the handgun you had stashed away. 

This time around, you managed to find a can of peach slices and two large cans of ravioli, as well a six-pack of water bottles. The water was a god-send since you’d been running low for a while now. The only thing left to do was get down to the lake to get yourself cleaned up.

You’d been down there a few times, and the area was mostly safe, with few monsters ever appearing while in the Fog world, which was why you weren’t hesitant towards the trip for such a seemingly trivial thing. With a spring in your step that surprised even yourself, you started walking towards the Lakeview Hotel, knowing the lake itself was just a stone’s throw from the burnt-down building.

Taking a quick look around the nearby area as you arrived at the shore of the large lake, you took note of the single figure standing ominously to your left, obscured by the fog and completely unmoving. Hoping it was just a lying figure that wouldn’t notice you, you knelt down beside the lake before flinging your hair over your head to give you a better angle, proceeding to dip it into the cold water to try and scrub some of the dirt out.

The sound of gravel crunching next to you made you jump up, fists at the ready despite your hair obscuring your vision. Your knife was on the ground next to your feet, useless once again, the entire situation giving you a vague sense of déjà vu. The vague outline of what looked to be a normal human stood in front of you, hands drawn up in a non-threatening manner as you pulled your hair back, letting you view their face.

As you took in the details of their visage, you felt a sense of familiarity around them, but couldn’t place exactly where you’d seen them before. They slowly lowered their hands and took a few steps toward you, but stopped as soon as you tensed and stepped back, keeping your fists clenched. When they finally spoke, the pieces clicked together;

“Hello. My name is Abigail, we’ve met before.” Her voice was soft and calm and she spoke with a small smile. She was just like you remembered. 

She was a member of the Order, and lived in the church with the few other survivors you knew about. You’d visited the church during your first few days, but the cult-like feeling of the group had driven you off, leaving you to fend for yourself. Abigail had been one of the more sane ones, talking to you about her time in Silent Hill and explaining some of the “rules” of the town.

“Yes, I remember you. You were nice to me,” you said, still feeling apprehensive. Why would Abigail appear randomly, and so far from the church? You knew they never strayed far from their safe haven, a place not even the darkness of the Otherworld could touch. 

“Why are you here?”

Her smile turned a little sad as she answered. “Carrie asked me to look for you. They want to offer you a place among our flock, despite your earlier deviation.”

“So she sent you out here just to look for me? Why?” You felt very skeptical about the situation and knowing that their group acted almost exactly like a regular cult didn’t sit right with you. You wanted to get Abigail out of there before she was pulled in too deep, but unless she wanted to come with you, there was nothing to do. 

“Like I said, they want to offer you a place among us. She said she felt bad for turning you away, even if it  _ was _ you that walked away from us. She wants you safe, as do I,” she said with a warm smile.

“What if I refuse?” you said, expecting anything other than the cold stare she gave you, her smile vanishing. A chill raced down your spine as you felt like something was very wrong about the situation. She took a slow step towards you, and out of the corner of your eye you saw more silhouettes approaching, armed with blunt-looking weapons and carrying matching bands with the mark of the Order.

“Who said you had a choice?” Her voice made your blood freeze and as the other members steadily walked closer, you realized you weren’t getting out of this unscathed. Quickly turning around, you reached for the person closest to you, an older man that had walked up behind you, grabbing him by his neck and pulling him to the ground. The element of surprise helped you as he didn’t get time to react to your attack, but as the others swiftly moved in, you realized it was over as fast as it had started. A blow to the back of your head made you fall down as the air was knocked out of your lungs, leaving you gasping and writhing on the ground.

Abigail stood over you with a shit-eating grin plastered on her face, idly swinging a baseball bat back and forth over the ground, occasionally letting it scrape against the concrete.

She turned her gaze to someone else, and with a quick nod another bat came swinging in, hitting you in your temple and knocking you out cold.

***

You woke with a start, hearing voices all around you but unable to spot a single person. Maybe it was because your vision was spinning and going double and you couldn’t hold your head up for more than a few seconds. When an almost familiar face stepped into view, you very nearly sobbed. God, those hits to the head must have done more than knock you out.

Carrie stood in front of you, hands behind her back and somehow looking down at you despite you being above her. That’s when you noticed you weren’t on the ground. You were standing on a small piece of wood sticking out from a plank behind you, your arms and legs securely tied to some kind of wooden post, probably meant to resemble Jesus on the cross, though your arms were held higher, above your head instead of beside it. 

“My, my. Look what the cat dragged in,” Carrie said with a smug little smile, waltzing closer and forcing you to crane your neck down in an uncomfortable angle to look at her.

“Fuck you,” you spat, mustering enough energy to kick at her, your foot weakly connecting with her ribs but barely making her stumble. She clicked her tongue in annoyance before snapping her fingers, two other members walking up and standing at attention.

“Strip her and bathe her, I want her ready for the ceremony tomorrow.” With a final smile, Carrie snaps her fingers again and walks off, leaving you to struggle as the two members untie you and pull you down from the makeshift cross you’d been tied to. You noticed then that it was Y-shaped instead of formed like a T, probably to more resemble the mark of the Order. 

Despite your attempts at struggling, there was nothing you could do as the two men rudely ripped off your clothes and shoved you into a bathtub filled with cold water, a few suds and bubbles floating around the edges. You yelped and writhed, trying to cover yourself and get them to stop scrubbing at your skin, already feeling raw and blistered. 

It couldn’t be over fast enough, so when they finally pulled you out and handed you a soft red gown to wear, you very nearly cried, the tears threatening to spill over as they lead you to a separate room, telling you to ‘be good’ and wait for Carrie to come get you in the morning. The sound of a lock clicking was what made the coin drop.

Falling to your knees, you sobbed, shivers wracking through your body as you let your guard crumble and turn to dust, the knowledge that you wouldn’t get out of here alive crawling on your back like spiders. Finally noticing the dusty old bed that sat pushed up against a wall, you managed to crawl over and heave yourself over the edge, throwing the ratty blanket over yourself and curling up in a ball, wishing all of this was a bad dream.


	3. Rebirth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Order has found a new vessel for their God, but failing to impregnate her, they try to sacrifice her. A certain helmet-clad judge comes to reap the rewards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said in the first chapter, this fic is heavily inspired and draws many elements from another fic called Offering, made by DarthFucamus which y'all should really read! It's written very poetically and is really cool! anyway, second-to-last chapter, lets go!!

Your dreamless sleep was interrupted with a heavy knock at the door, the normalcy of it all fooling you for a second before you remembered what had transpired before the sandman had knocked you out. The memory of rope biting into your skin, and the way they had scrubbed at your flesh to cleanse your ‘impurities’ made you shiver in disgust, but another series of knocks drew you out of your head, forcing you to turn and look as Carrie opened the door and strode inside, two members flanking her. Thankfully it wasn’t the ones from before, your legs having started shaking just from the though of it.

“Are you going to come willingly or will we have to force this upon you as well?” Carrie asked, her voice tinged with disappointment, like a mother scolding her child for trying to eat dessert before dinner. You gathered up as much saliva as you could and spat on the floor in front of her and fixed her with an angry stare, but stood up and complied when her guards took ahold of your arms to lead you out of the room. Carrie only clicked her tongue in annoyance before following behind you, her arms crossed behind her back as usual.  _ Maybe she was just stuck like that?  _ Either way, the situation didn’t look good.

In the middle of the church floor was a torn mattress and a few pillows, placed inside a strange symbol that looked like a combination of a pentagram and the Orders mark. You could already guess what was going to happen, deciding to instead focus on the fresco that sat behind the altar; 

It depicted a red-haired woman, wearing a dress similar to yours and holding an infant, rays of light shining behind the pair. Your gut started twisting in disgust, a cold sweat breaking out across your skin as they led you to the bed, hands locked tight around your arms. A half-circle of men stood around, all of them wearing grey robes with a similar design to your dress, some fidgeting with their hands while others stood stoically, almost like statues.

A loud clap echoed throughout the mostly empty church, Carrie having walked over to the altar at the front, presumably to address everyone that was gathered, not that there was a lot. Your ‘escorts’ had forced you down onto the mattress, making you kneel as Carrie started talking.

“We all know why we have gathered today, and why I have asked you to wear the ceremonial robes. Today, we will start the process of resurrecting our God, and ushering in the Apocalypse!” Her voice was loud and clear, bouncing off the walls like a choir as she raised her arms in praise. “We have been gifted a new vessel! Rejoice, my flock! Rejoice, for today you will get to revel in the pleasures of the flesh!” The other members echoed her, spread chants of ‘rejoice!’ and ‘amen!’ sounding from behind you. As Carrie lowered her arms she fixed her gaze directly on you, her smile doing nothing to hide the chilling hatred in her eyes. “She’s all yours gentlemen, just don’t damage her too much. She must carry a healthy child for God to inhabit,” she said, her words dripping with venom.

Within a second, several of the men had descended upon you, tearing at their robes whilst trying to remove your clothing, fumbling hands grabbing anywhere they could. You were helpless, the strikes to your head still affecting you, making you feel dizzy and faint as you desperately tried to fight them off.

They quietly seemed to come to a mutual agreement, with four of them grabbing one of your flailing limbs each, holding you down and allowing one of them to crawl forward, an older man with graying hair and oddly kind-looking eyes, salt-and-pepper stubble spread across his jaw. Your heart ached as you screamed and pleaded, feeling his calloused hands kneading away at the flesh of your thighs as he kissed across your neck, trying to soothe you. Tears were flowing freely down your cheeks as you begged for them to stop, to let you go, but your screams fell on deaf ears.

Most of the men that stood around and watched had taken themselves in hand, stroking themselves to the sight of you being violated and used. You threw up then, turning your head to one side as acrid bile poured out from your throat and mouth, splattering onto the man who was holding down your arm on that side, making him flinch away in disgust, but his grip held strong. You didn’t care, you simply spat out what you could of the vomit and continued to cry and scream as the man who had gotten the first turn started lining himself up, still whispering soothing nothings into your ear.

***

It had been days since the ‘ceremony’ had started, three if you counted the switching between worlds as night and day, the only thing cutting through the haze that you’d fallen into being the ringing of the sirens. It felt like an eternity; An eternity of being raped over and over again as the chosen men of the Order tried to impregnate you so you could birth their God for them. An eternity of Carrie checking in after each ejaculation for any signs that it had succeeded. An eternity of her demanding the men to keep trying, of her whispering into your ear during the few breaks you got that you were of less use than a sow, that you were nothing more than a place for their God to grow.

Each time the impregnations had failed, Carrie had grown more restless and angry, pacing in front of the fresco that depicted the fictional being that they followed so devotedly until she’d finally had enough. She had interrupted right as the man that had first coupled with you was about to cum for what felt like the hundredth time, yelling at him to get out of her sight. You almost felt bad for him as he seemed legitimately afraid of Carrie, grabbing his robe and sprinting away into what you assumed were the private living quarters, dick swinging ridiculously between his legs, still hard and covered in slick and blood. 

Now Carrie stood in front of you with her arms hanging limply at her sides, looking disheveled and out of character. The only thing that looked as usual was the cold smile and gaze she gave you, though it seemed chillier than usual.

“Looks like you’ve failed. A shame, I had high hopes about you.” She idly picked at her fingernails as she talked, looking down her nose at you, eyes vaguely crinkled in amusement. “It seems like we’ll have to make another sacrifice, I hope you don’t mind.” She barked at two members cowering behind a couple of pillars as if it would hide them, ordering them to bring the cross you’d first awoken on outside and tie you back up to it. 

Anxiety and fear welled up in your chest as you were roughly pulled up from your position on the floor, goosebumps rising along your skin as the cold air of the church caressed your naked body. A few other people helped out with carrying the big ungainly cross outside and setting it up, ready for you to become the next Jesus or whatever it was they had in mind. Despite your heavy eyelids and heavier legs you managed to stand up and walk on your own towards the doors, wanting to retain the last of your dignity before your death.

The air outside was surprisingly warm despite the breeze and fog that always covered the town, as well as your lack of clothing. You couldn’t care less about the stares you were getting as you were led towards the cross, managing to keep your head held high and your eyes focused on an invisible point in the distance as you walked, feeling every rock and pebble underneath your feet.

When they ordered you to lay down on the cross you obeyed, not making any fuss as you tried to get as comfortable as possible, your heartbeat quickening as they tied you up, the ropes cutting into your skin. It took five men to lift it up and secure it to the hill they’d put it on, several chains that wrapped around the wood being fastened to metal rings in the ground to ensure the cross would stay standing.

With everything fixed and nothing more needing to be done, the members left, walking back inside to wait for you to be ripped apart by the monsters of the town. Feeling the last of your energy drain away, you let your head hang down uncomfortably, letting your eyelids fall and unconsciousness take over.

***

The ringing of the sirens is what pulls you back to reality, managing to weakly lift your head up to watch as the surrounding area decays, letting the darkness take over as survivors start pouring in, back from their scavenging and ignoring you completely save for a few stray glances. They all knew what was to come, and no one wanted to witness it despite them being the ones to have forced this fate on you.

The siren faded, and as it did, the doors of the church slammed shut behind you, leaving you locked outside with whatever creature thought you worthy of being killed. You could already see a few figures walking closer, probably having smelled the offering of fresh meat. As a lying figure walked into view, you prayed that your death would be relatively quick, remembering the way their acidic spit had left another survivor writhing in agony for several minutes before finally killing him, with you watching the whole thing from behind a few crates, too terrified to move. 

You could almost smell your flesh, imagine the searing pain of the acid eating away at you as you saw it rear back, preparing to spit at you, making you close your eyes.

Dread filled your heart as the familiar screech of metal on concrete met your ears, the sound seeming to echo off the walls of surrounding buildings as the large silhouette of the Executioner came into view, his movements as twitchy as usual. The lying figure in front of you stopped, having heard the shrieking sound of the Great Knife.

You couldn’t be sure that the weird relationship you two had formed would stop him from accepting their sacrifice, but a small bud of hope grew in your chest despite the uncertainty.

With the Executioner having arrived, the other monsters drew back, keeping themselves back and away from the two of you. All except for the one that had been about to spit at you, that was. He didn’t bother using his knife, instead he wrapped a hand around its head and squeezed until it popped like a pimple, brain matter and blood coloring the ground around them as he threw away the corpse.

Three long strides and he was close enough for the edge of his helmet to scrape against you, drawing a long, thin line on your stomach, small drops of blood bubbling to the surface. He seemed calm despite his monstrous nature, and you tried in vain to reach out and touch the metal, barely feeling the rope budge. You had never been a very religious person, but being faced with the possibility of real death and judgement from some higher being could make anyone into a believer. Deciding to test your newfound faith, you make a final plea to him.

“Do not take me as an offering from them. I give myself to you willingly, and ask only that you bring your judgement down upon the false believers, hiding like cowards from God’s servant.” 

He stood still for a moment, before moving away from you. As he backed up, walking around to the side of the cross instead and lifting his knife above you, you instinctively turned your gaze to the ground, fear crawling along your spine as you waited for the strike to land.

You were gratefully surprised when the knife cut through the wood and your bindings instead of your flesh, managing to somewhat catch yourself as you fell from the cross, pebbles biting into your palms and knees. With unbalanced legs, you stood up and turned towards him, rubbing at your sore wrists as you did.

“Thank you,” you croaked, feeling how sore your throat had become from the crying and begging. Swallowing a few times, you felt the discomfort disappear a little. You might have imagined it, but you thought you saw the jut of his helm dip the slightest bit. When he didn’t move further, you wondered what it was he was waiting for. As he stretched his arm out to point towards the imposing facade of the church behind you, you understood.

With a confidence you never could have mustered before coming here, you start walking towards the church, the hulking frame of the Executioner following behind you, giving you courage as the other monsters keep their distance for the moment.

As you step up to the set of double-doors, you hesitate. Was this what you wanted? But when a firm hand grasps your shoulder and he steps up next to you, you know. 

Pressing your hands against the near-pristine wood, you push the doors open and revel in the stares you get before everyone notices the new shadow you’ve developed and the stares turn into panicked screams with everyone running around like headless chickens. Everyone except for Carrie, who is standing by the altar with her hands clasped in front of her, her eyes wide and nostrils flaring as she looks directly at you.

Keeping your eyes locked with hers, you motion for Pyramid Head to whatever it is he’s going to do in order to deliver judgement upon the congregation. He walks forward, his knife dragging against the wood, the weight of it causing it to sink partially into the floor, making the rotting wood splinter and break apart. With a surprisingly swift movement, he changes his hold on it so that it points downwards, before lifting it up and slamming it into the floor with a loud and resounding crash.

It only takes you a small moment before noticing what it was he did as you notice the snaking tendrils of smoke seeping through the crack, the wood around it turning into rusted metal. You soon realize what the ritualistic motion did as the screams of the congregation increase in volume and distress, and when you turn around you notice that other monsters have begun wandering inside, chasing down the fleeing members and killing them.

You start walking towards Carrie with heavy steps, Pyramid Head following close behind as you get close enough to notice the way her hands shake and how her eyes flick around the room to watch her followers being torn limb from limb, or collapsing in a bubbling pile of flesh and acid. You don’t need to say anything, only motion for him to move forward and suddenly Carrie starts running away, her calm facade thrown away as she panics. She doesn’t get far, as two mannequins corner her and start beating at her frail body.

Seeing your tormentors being ripped apart brought a sense of finality, and as you stood by the altar, looking up at the fresco and seeing Her calm, approving face looking down at you, you felt ready. 

As the Executioner stood before you, tall and imposing as always, you closed your eyes and waited for him to take your life.


	4. Can There Be Peace In Purgatory?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the congregation dead all around you, Pyramid Head finally stakes claim to the sacrifice he was offered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally done! I put off writing this last chapter for so long because I was unsure of how to end it without it being something like "and then they lived happily ever after, the end!" but I'm pretty happy with how it came out! Thank you to everyone that stuck around and encouraged me, I love y'all <3

The cut of his blade never came. Instead, he gripped around your waist and lifted you up to place you on the altar, the cold smooth stone chilling your feverish skin as you looked up at him. You realized then that you never set the terms of your offering, and it seemed he had decided to take a sacrifice of flesh instead of blood, your skin heating up even more at the thought.  
Calloused, near-familiar hands slowly trailed along your body as the screams of the congregation started dying down, pools of blood and body parts lying around, scattered on the stone floor. A breathy sigh escapes you as he gently explores, a stark difference to your first non-violent encounter that had left you with very obvious bruising, only now starting to fade away.  
His thumb brushes over your nipple and you moan lightly at the sensation, making him stop for a moment before repeating the motion, taking in the way your legs twitched and your back arched in pleasure with a soft, low grunt. His skin-leather apron was visibly tented, and you reach down to try and touch him, but he gently pushes your hand away before bringing his own down to rub along your folds, making you lean your head back against the cold stone before a familiar voice calls out from behind his powerful frame.  
“Whore! You’ve no idea what you’re bringing upon yourself, God will smite you for your sins!” Abigail stood almost victoriously in the middle of the circular room, staring and pointing at you as her nostrils flared. She seemed almost undisturbed by the chaos around her, despite the monsters closing in on her, the blood of the other members still fresh and glistening on their sickly pale skin.

A different desire suddenly popped into your head and with a wave of your hand, the Executioner halted the monsters, their grotesque, unsteady forms swaying in place as they waited. You sat up and, with a soft hand, pushed him away to stand beside you, ignoring the pulsing heat between your legs for the moment, walking towards Abigail with a confident step. As you stopped only a few steps away from her, she seemed to shrink, her nostrils no longer flaring in anger but in fear, eyes wide and stance defensive. Leveling her with a cold stare and a colder smirk, you spoke;  
“Your God is dead, and I killed her.”  
A snap of your fingers, and the creatures all start advancing again, the sound of their footsteps echoing throughout the church as Abigail keeps still, seemingly wanting to preserve her dignity before death, her face set in a stony expression, her eyes being the only thing betraying her, filled with fear. You scoffed at her before turning and walking back towards the altar, your faithful Executioner standing patiently beside it.  
Abigail's determination seems to crumble when the monsters actually reach her, her screams ringing in your ears like the toll of a church bell as she tries in vain to fight them off. You ignore her, instead letting Pyramid Head lift you back into place on the altar, his hands gripping you firmly as you smile up at him, feeling something akin to peace.  
The sound of her agonized cries die as quickly as they started, the monsters now wandering aimlessly, some of them bending down to tear at the chunks of flesh scattered on the floor.

Having his hands on you again, you quickly drift back into the horny mindset you had pushed back in order to confront Abigail, soft whines escaping your lips as you lay back against the cold stone, a shiver running down your spine from the mix of temperatures.  
He was gentle as he touched you; an obvious contrast to your first encounter but not one you opposed. Your breath hitched as he rubbed against your clit, and a daring thought entered your mind. When you started moving to sit up, he stopped his own movements, somehow managing to look confused even without a face. You shot him a wicked smile, eyes still half-lidded, as you moved to sit on the edge of the altar. You noticed your head was still too high up to be comfortable, so you looked around for something shorter to sit on.  
Finally your eyes landed on a somewhat-sturdy looking chair, jumping down and walking over to grab it and bring it back to where he still stood, having not moved an inch except turning his head to watch you.  
You quickly placed the chair where you wanted it and grabbed one of his hands to pull him into place, ignoring the excitement building in your stomach. When he stood where you wanted him, you sat down on the chair and reached forward to pull away his apron, but he gripped around your wrist before you could. Looking up at him in confusion, you assumed he needed assurance.  
“I want to do this, I want to make you feel good too.” Your voice was soft, and the confirmation seemed to please him as he released your wrist and let you continue, his heavy breathing reverberating through his helmet as he watches you, hands hanging still by his sides.  
You weren’t sure what you had expected, but the mostly normal looking dick in front of you wasn’t quite it. You had never seen it during your first coupling, too preoccupied with the fear that he would kill you to care much, but having it in front of you like this, without it looking grotesque or monstrous was almost weird.  
It was normally sized considering his towering stature, with a fat, almost spongy head and a few veins running along a thick, heavy shaft. Oddly enough, he didn’t have testicles, but as you ran a few fingers along the area where they should have been, you noticed there was no scar indicating castration either. Maybe he was created like that, to ensure he wouldn’t procreate, although it wouldn’t make sense to give him a dick either if that was the case. 

Ignoring the gnawing thoughts about his genitals, you let your instincts take over, spitting into your hand before slowly starting to jerk him off to the best of your abilities. Gathering as much spit in your mouth as you could, you placed a kiss to the ruddy head before popping it in and gently taking more of it, keeping your hand moving along the part you couldn’t take.  
As you started moving your head and settling into a rhythm, swirling your tongue around the head every other time, low grunts started reaching your ears, making your chest swell with pride. His hand reaches up to push against the underside of his helmet, hopelessly trying to move it from its throne on his shoulders, before defeatedly lowering it to your head instead, fingers scraping along your scalp in an almost encouraging motion.  
He doesn’t let you go on much longer, big hands pulling you away from his dick as you very nearly whine, eyes following his movements as he backs up and helps you stand from the chair. With a few swift movements, he has you pinned against the altar by one hand, the other dragging down your body, touching you in an almost leisurely way as he slips two fingers back inside of you. It seemed he had wanted to check that you were still stretched out, and his fingers are soon replaced by the head of his spit-slick cock, gently nudging against your entrance. Before he can thrust into you, you hop up on the altar and position yourself on the edge of it, letting your legs hang off the edge as you relax.

He sheathes himself inside of you just as quickly as the first time, although it’s a lot less painful this time. He has one hand on the edge of the altar and the other on your hip, steadying you as he starts to move. You could almost feel the fresco behind you staring at the act in front of her in either disbelief or horror and nearly laughed at the thought, the sound being replaced by a loud moan as he hits a particularly good spot.  
His movements are still rough and demanding, but this time it doesn’t feel like he’s forcing you into anything. You want this, and damn if you aren’t going to get it. The hand on the altar moves to rub gentle circles around your clit, causing you to nearly knock your head on the stone as you throw it back. Another perfectly aimed thrust has your entire body arching upwards, hands scrabbling for purchase against the polished stone as he relentlessly pounds into you. Your pleasured sounds bounce off the walls of the church, defiling the sacred space in the best way.

That familiar sparking feeling along your spine and the rumbling heat in your gut flare up, and you place your hand on top of his on your hip, feeling the way his grip on you tightens.  
“Please.” You beg for him, voice light and airy as you reach up to stroke along the edge of his helm. That’s all it takes for his rhythm to start stuttering, hips losing their momentum as he pounds into you with fervor a few more times before he thrusts in as far as he can, cumming inside of you as you clench around him from your own orgasm.  
Like last time, he quickly pulls back out and tucks his dick away inside of the apron, but unlike last time he doesn’t walk away. Instead, he scoops you up from your place on the altar and tucks you against his chest, carrying you with one arm as he picks up his knife from the ground with the other.  
With his typical twitchy stride, he walks out of the church with you, leaving the bloody mess and the other creatures behind. The sirens must have gone off without you noticing it, because outside it’s calm and foggy, with no signs of the chaos that had occurred only moments before. He seemed to have a destination in mind as he kept walking, not stopping for anything as the church disappears behind you and the larger buildings come into view, a familiar apartment complex catching your eye. Maybe he was bringing you back to your base?

You were correct, although it wasn’t hard to figure out. He set you down on the ground outside of the entrance, then waited. Taking the hint, you opened the door and walked inside, setting up the doorstop to keep it open if he wished to follow. With sure steps, you climbed the stairs up to your room and quickly picked out a comfortable outfit, feeling the temperature now that you weren’t busy getting it on or being snuggled close to a warm chest. Your entire body had gotten goosebumps and a chill raced down your spine as you pulled on the clothes, rubbing your arms to try and get your blood flowing.  
A creak outside of your door alerted you to his presence, standing like a statue, watching your every move. It was comforting, even if it shouldn’t have been. You felt safe with him around, and the thought that he might end up killing you anyway didn’t bother you too much. After all, you would either just come back here or be gone forever. With a soft smile, you pick up your spare backpack and walk out the door, motioning for him to follow you.  
“Let’s go take a bath.”


End file.
